Inkwell: Authors and Artists

    
vouring hipster, hypester, hucksters alike, papasans, Mamasan, hop-
  

    
i, Sioux, and Cherokee. No Mohicans, though, he'd seen the last of
them at the mo-
  

    
tel next door to the casino.  People coming in and out of there at all h-
  

    
igh on the latest Get Enlightened Quick seminar -- what a way for the
last Mohican to e-
  

    
xit the building with a suitcase full of pos-
  

    
sition papers, headed for the White House!  The Dire Wolf smiled at
the Mohican's ingenuity, le-
  

    
tting the spirit of the season override his gut feeling that the re-
  

    
d man's words could not thaw the icy grip upon a secret heart s-
  

    
o bent on revenge and yet so ill-equipped to do any real damage to an-
  

    
gels in the architecture, spinning in infinity.  Changing his mind,
the wolf s-
  

    
pun around and headed back into the kitchen, reached into the cab-
  

    
inet containing Magic Potions, and grabbed a bottle of Nepenthe.  Ne-
  

    
ver waste your time or money on that watered down Boar's Breathe," he
thought, "it's not worth the hairs on the lab-
  

    
el.  But Nepenthe!  Now *that* will put this topic to sleep!"  S-
  

    
ilently nodding in assent, the conference host roused himself from sl-
  

    
y one-eyed slumber long enough to sa-
  

    
nforize the wolf and the topic, so that shrinkage would no longer be pro-
  

    
duction staff's number one problem.  Next, the host n-
  

    
early tipped the entire wheelbarrowful into a bank of dai-
  

    
ly Show writers, which would have made it impossible to produce tonight's pr-
  

    
edigested oat hulls, packaged with a minimum of sugar and added chem-
  

    
icals, except for the little known fact that in the springtime, n-
  

    
o one remembers how depressing it was a few months earlier when the sun s-
  

    
equestered itself in an oak-paneled jury room with eleven other hea-
  

    
dless corpses.  Trying to get a verdict out of this crowd is like t-